He was surprisingly small. Not that he was small. In fact, for a normal person, he was rather large. But he was supposedly one of the strongest superhumans in the world.

At about six foot tall, and nearly three feet wide at the shoulder, he looked like a professional athlete. He had brown hair and blue eyes. He was dressed in an orange jumpsuit. His hands were cuffed in front of him. That wouldn't matter much to someone known for ripping through thick steel plate with his fingers, if he wasn't wearing a power suppression collar.

The collar was a single piece of steel shaped in a circle. It wasn't tight on his neck, but it was too small to pull off over his head. The most prominent feature was the latch that was held closed by a welded circle of steel. There was also an LED light that glowed green, indicating that the collar was operational.

He was lead by one US Marshal and followed by another. They were dressed in raid or riot gear, bullet resistant armor, helmets, and web gear vests with USMS in large bright letters. Their badge was a circle with a seven sided star, indicating they were part of the superhuman services division. They were both carrying shotguns, and those shotguns were usually loaded with special rounds designed to deal with whatever superhuman they were dealing with. Around their waist hung a variety of grenades, pepper spray and a side arm.

They walked him into a police interrogation room. Three walls were drywall the third was covered with a two-way mirror. They sat him down at the table in the center of the room, facing the mirror. There was a short chain attached to the center of the table. He put his hands on the table and one of the marshals attached the chain to the handcuffs. The two marshals stepped back, shotguns held diagonally across their chests, on guard, but ready. There was no talking. The prisoner seemed bored.

The door opened and a woman walked in, closing the door behind her. She carried a file in a manila folder. Even with her hair tied back in a simple pony tail and no make-up on she was a very attractive woman. She wore a pair of slacks and a blouse. There was a pistol on her belt along with a badge.

Crossing to the other side of the table she opened the folder, looked at it, looked at the prisoner and then back at the contents of the folder. "Harold Johnson?" she asked without looking up from the folder. She stayed that way, flipping through the pages in the file, waiting for an answer. When she didn't get an answer after a moment she looked up at the prisoner. He was looking her over with a bored expression on his face. She glowered. "Are you Harold Johnson?"

"Detective, we're not supposed to leave the prisoner," one of the marshals protested.

"He's got that collar on, doesn't he?" She asked. The Marshals sighed. "While you're at it, take those handcuffs with you."

"Yes Ma'am," the second marshal said, taking the cuffs off the prisoner. They walked to the exit and stopped to say, "We'll be right outside."

The detective sat down across from the prisoner. She looked at him for a long moment, sizing him up. "From your file I see you eschewed the gaudy costume and idiotic pseudonym."

Harry didn't say anything. He just looked at her.

After a pause she continued. "Most of you supers can't resist clashing neon colors and naming yourselves thinks like Destroyer or worse. One of these morons called himself 'Purple Shiny Pants,' if you can believe it."

Harry continued to stare.

"But not you. From all reports you mostly wore a business suit and used your own name. Harold Johnson. You're also much older than most supers. Usually you get your powers in your late teens and immediately go off on a crime spree, but you don't appear on the scene until your late twenties." She paused and looked at him. Realizing he wasn't going to say anything she continued on. "I also noticed that in all your bank robberies not one civilian was injured, except for the last one. How do you explain that?"

Harry remained mute.

"You turned yourself in at that crime scene. Why?"

This time the detective remained mute, waiting for Harry to answer. They sat for a long time, just staring at each other. The ticking of the clock was the loudest sound in the room. After fifteen minutes of silence the detective broke first.

"If you're not going to talk I'll just send you back to prison." She stood up.

As she walked to the door Harry said, "Wait."

"So you're willing to talk?" she asked.

"I'll make you a deal," Harry said, "You get me a meal, of my choosing, and I'll answer some questions, of my choosing."

She looked him over, considering the offer. "We're not going to the Ritz."

"No, not just McDonalds," Harry replied, shaking his head, "A large, double quarter pounder meal, no cheese, no mustard, with a root beer, no ice."

She smiled. "Okay, we can do that. Now about those bank robberies..."

"I'll talk when I get my food," Harry countered.

The detective left him alone in the room. During the twenty minutes it took to get the food Harry sat motionless in relative silence. She walked back in, dropped the McDonalds sack on the table in front of Harry and put the soda down. Harry opened the bag, taking out the straw. He ripped the paper protector in the middle, took off one end and shoved the straw into the drink, took off the other end and sipped the soda. He smiled broadly. Then he pulled the sandwich container out of the bag, opened up the cardboard container and quickly closed it, put it back in the bag and pushed it across the table to the detective. "Send it back."

"Why?" she asked.

He sipped the root beer. "There's cheese on the burger."

"Scrape it off," she said.

"Jews can't eat meat that was cooked in its mother's juices." He sipped the soda again.

She glowered at him. Then she stood up and grabbed the bag. As she walked out the door he hollered, "No mustard either!"

Twenty minutes later she was back. She had a new bag, and another soda. He opened the sack and pulled the sandwich container out.

"It's fine," she growled, "I watched them make it."

He opened the container, pulled the top bun off and put it in the lid. He pulled some fries out of the bag and put them on the bun. He flipped the top patty onto the bun and put more fries on the second patty. All the fries were lined up in the same direction so he had the maximum number of fries he could fit on the patty. He closed the lid, and opened it again, effectively reassembling the sandwich. He took a big bite out of the double quarter pounder and grinned as he chewed. He took a long draw off his first soda and smiled.

"It's amazing how much you miss something like McDonalds after two years in the pen, isn't it?" the detective asked.

Harry nodded, taking another bite.

"Harold, how would you like to get out of prison?"

Harry snorted, then coughed. He took a moment to breathe, then, when he was sure of himself, he finished chewing and swallowed. "There's only two ways out of prison for me Miss Detective," Harry said, "Either I break out or they execute me. I'm hoping for execution."

She shook her head. "You're that torn up over the hostage getting injured on your last job?"

Harry didn't answer, he just took another bite of his burger.

"I'm right, aren't I?" she asked. "You're the first superhuman I've ever met with a semblance of a conscience."

"I was convicted of over three hundred murders," he replied between bites.

"You were railroaded," she countered. "The DA charged you with every cold case he figured he could reasonably convict you of."

Harry chuckled. "That's an awful thing to accuse a District Attorney of." He put the sandwich down in its container. "What makes a pretty detective like you say something silly like that?"

She leaned back in her chair. "Last year I got some new evidence on an old murder case. I went to update the file and it wasn't there. Turns out the file had been closed because you had committed the murder. So I looked you up. It turns out you raped and strangled a mother and daughter at the exact same time you were on camera ripping apart the vault door at First National. How did you pull that off Harold? Killing a family and robbing a bank across town at the same time?"

Harry shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich.

"You promised me answers Harold." She shook her head. "I got you that burger, had to go back to the store because you're Jewish..."

"I'm not Jewish," Harold said with his mouth full.

She glared at him. "But you said you were. You said you couldn't eat the sandwich because it was cooked in its mother's juices."

Harry swallowed his food. "No, I said Jews can't eat meat that was cooked in it's mother's juices. I never said I was a Jew."

She looked at the ceiling and shook her head. "Answer the question then, how could you rape," she emphasized rape, "and murder a mother and daughter while you were robbing a bank across town?"

Harry shrugged. "Seems unlikely to me."

"Then why didn't your lawyer point that out at the trial?" the detective demanded.

He sighed. "I had a lousy lawyer."

"Level with me, off the record," she said, leaning in closer, "Did you do any of the things you were convicted of, besides the bank robberies?"

"I plead the fifth," Harry said, taking a sip of his soda.

"I said it was off the record."

"C'mon Detective, I'm not stupid," Harry said. "The recorders in these rooms never get shut off. Anything I say in here can and will be used against me in a court of law. There is no off the record with cops."

She smiled. "Most crooks don't know that. Especially the supers. You're all on a power trip, pun intended."

Harry smiled. "I'm almost done with my burger. Do you have any more questions for me?"

"You didn't shoot that hostage did you?" she asked.

"I was convicted of it," he replied.

"The witnesses say one of your cohorts got angry and shot the hostage and when you found out you backhanded him into a wall."

"I was convicted of it," Harry repeated.

"The video from the bank cameras proves your innocence," the detective countered.

"And yet," Harry repeated coolly, "I was convicted of it."

"I could get that conviction overturned. And the murder and rape charge too." She was looking intently at his face. "That would go a long way toward getting you out of prison."

"Why would you do that Detective?" Harry asked.

"I believe in justice," she replied.

"Even for a superhuman?" he asked.

She nodded. "It would be nice if it turned out you weren't all power-mad freaks."

Harry shook his head. "I've done a lot of bad things Miss, I belong in jail."

"But you never hurt anyone did you?" she asked. "You're not a violent criminal. You only turned yourself in because you felt guilty over that wounded hostage."

"Oh, I've hurt people," Harry said calmly.

"On purpose? When it wasn't self-defense?" she asked.

Harry was silent for a moment, considering her. "What is it you really want, Miss? Besides justice."

She considered him for a moment. "I want you to be my CI."

He raised an eyebrow. "Confidential Informant? I'm not a rat Detective."

"No, but you're an expert on superhumans. That's what I want you for," she said.

"What makes me an expert?" Harry asked.

"You are one," She said. "One of the strongest superhumans in the world. From what I read you took a volley from an M1 Abrams battle tank and didn't get a scratch."

"So?"

"So this country is being overrun by superhumans. Powermad freaks that think because they're a little bit tougher, or faster that they can take whatever they want, that the law doesn't matter." She was starting to get passionate. "And normal people, innocent people are getting hurt because of it."

"What if you weren't in prison?" the detective asked. "As a CI you would be released into my custody."

Harry cocked his head to one side. "There is no way anyone would ever allow that."

"Why not?"

"Because no one is going to release a superpowered criminal like me. Ever." Harry shrugged. "C'est la vie."

"You'll still have your collar on." She smiled. "You're perfectly normal, no super powers at all."

Harry shook his head. "You have no idea how the collars work do you?"

"They stop you from using your powers, everyone knows that."

Harry looked at her for a moment. "That's not what I meant." He shook his head. "You want to turn mine off, don't you? You don't want me as an informant, you want me as a bodyguard."

It was the detective's turn to grin broadly. "I plead the fifth."

They stared at each other for a long time until Harry finally said, "No. I'm not a gladiator. I don't fight for your amusement."

She sighed. "There's one more thing I haven't told you." She waited for him to ask what it was, but he wasn't even looking at her. He was finishing his burger and fries. The detective sighed and continued, "We've got a new kind of super criminal. A super rapist."

Harry stopped in mid-chew. He looked up at her and for the first time since he walked in the door he wasn't calm. He swallowed quickly. "What?"

"That's right. Some teenager woke up with super speed and decided he didn't want money, or revenge. He's a serial rapist." She spat out the words.

"No." Harry shook his head. "Why would someone do that?"

"I stopped asking that question a long time ago Harold. I'm pretty happy just putting freaks like you behind bars."

Harry stood up. "I am nothing like him!"

She stood up and pointed her finger at him, "You raped and murdered a mother and daughter!"

"How dare you? I-" Harry stopped suddenly.

"You what Harold?" She asked in a calmer voice, "You didn't rape and murder a mother and child? You didn't kill an entire family? a crime so horrible I can barely imagine it. Or you didn't murder three hundred people? Is that what you were going to say? That you're really a good guy, who might steal from an insured bank but would never cross the line of hurting someone? That's who you are Harold, isn't it? A nice, superpowered man."

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He sat down. The detective sat down too. After a moment Harry asked, "You're sure about this. There's a super fast rapist loose in the city?"

"Oh I'm sure. I was almost one of his victims."

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"My partner and I caught him in the act. He shot my partner and came for me. He was holding me down and I managed to knee him in the crotch. Fast or not he couldn't dodge that." There was a hint of pride in her voice. "He ran before I could cuff him."

They were silent for a long moment. She was watching Harry for a reaction. He was looking away. After a moment he spoke.

"I'm never going to rat, detective."

"So who's asking you to? I need expert information on superhumans." She looked at him for a moment. "What do you say?"

Harry sighed. "I don't go back to jail?"

"Not as long as you behave," she answered.

"I don't have to inform on anyone?" he asked.

"You have my word," she assured him.

"I'd rather have it in writing," he countered.

"Here you go," she tossed the file across the table.

Harry opened it up. There wasn't anything in the file about him, it was a confidential informant contract. "What about my observation period before you make me the offer?"

Her eyes lowered into slits. "You aren't the regular criminal are you? Most people don't know about that. Technically that's an FBI requirement, not one for county or state police. However, it is a good idea. You were in prison for two years, that counts as your observation period. We've got a good idea of who you are Harold Johnson, especially after that incident with Miguel Feraco."

Harry read through the file quickly, sipping his soda. When he was empty he automatically moved the straw from the first root beer to the second without looking up from the contract. "Before I sign this I have one question for you."

"What's that Harold?" the detective asked.

"What's your name, Miss Detective?"

"Hilary. Detective Jessica Hilary."

Last edited by Kytross on Tue Nov 21, 2017 2:58 pm, edited 2 times in total.

"Only a Sith deals in absolutes!" - Except, apparently, that one.

"And Anarchy, I think we can agree, is only fun some of the time." - Ducky

"Are you crazy?" the first US Marshal asked Detective Hilary. They were in the corridor outside of the interrogation room. Both marshals were staring at her in disbelief. For his part, Harry was leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest with a bemused smirk.

"What do you mean Marshal?" Jessica asked. "All the paperwork is in order."

"Paperwork be damned!" The marshal pointed at Harry. "He's a superhuman! You can't be serious!"

"On the contrary," Jessica replied, not quite hiding the smirk on her face, "I need information on superhumans. As you pointed out, Harold Johnson is a superhuman."

"He's one of the most dangerous supers in the world!" the second marshal interjected.

"No," the first marshal said, "no, if you turn that off, even by accident, you'd be loosing Big Harry on this city again. Last time the National Guard couldn't stop him." Harry's smirk broadened at that comment.

Jessica fixed him with a glare. "Technically I'm required to give him his freedom, the law hasn't kept up with the superhuman-

"That's because no one has been stupid enough to make a super a CI before!" the marshal shouted.

"-but I'm willing to concede that he keep the collar on," Jessica finished as if she wasn't interrupted.

"Willing to concede?" the second marshal exclaimed in outrage.

"No, I'm talking to your captain before I do anything," the first marshal said.

Jessica smiled broadly. "You are more then welcome to wait for him to come back from his meeting with the commissioner, but the law is clear. You are required to give me the remote control for the collar. Now." She held out her hand. "Or I will have you up on charges. Harold Johnson only committed criminal acts in this state, only inside the county lines actually, so technically you're out of your jurisdiction Marshal."

The first marshal glowered at her. "Don't give me that juris-my-diction crap. The US Marshals were designated by congress and the president to deal with superhumans."

"And on the federal level you have all the authority you could ever want, and more," Jessica replied. "But this is not an interstate matter and Harold Johnson is not an interstate criminal. You are here at our request and as a legal law enforcement officer with jurisdiction I am asking you to comply with the law."

The second marshal started to say something but the first marshal cut him off with a gesture. "Fine. You're right, the law is clear and quite frankly, I don't need the hassle." He pulled the remote out of a pouch on his web vest and slapped it into her hand. "Just remember, he killed three hundred people. Murdered them in cold blood. Hell, he killed twelve people in a warehouse."

"I know, with a pistol." Jessica fixed him with a stare. "Now why would the strongest man in the world kill someone with a pistol?"

"That's how most people kill people," the Marshal replied. "Don't they teach you anything in the police academy?"

"Most supers kill with their powers, not weapons. Don't they teach you US Marshals anything before they let you slap that seven sided star on your shoulder?" Jessica turned and walked away.

Harry let her walk past him and then pushed off the wall to a standing position. He turned and faced the marshals. "I like the seven pointed star. Makes you look like tribal pigs down in Oklahoma."

"What the hell are you talking about Johnson?" the second marshal asked.

"He's mouthing off," the first marshal said, "thinks he can get away with it now that he's out of our jurisdiction."

Harry grinned. "Don't feel too bad that you just got juris-dick-slapped by a girl. If you want, you can juris my dick. I've never had my dick jurised by a US Marshal before."

The first marshal swung his shotgun up, bringing it over his head to hit Harry with the shotgun's stock. The second marshal grabbed him and hauled him back, away from Harry.

Harry grinned at them. "Well Occifers, I can say it hasn't been fun. Good riddance." He turned and followed after Detective Hillary.

When he caught up to Jessica she asked, "What was that all about?"

Harry shrugged. "Just poking the bears."

She shook her head. "Yeah, that was smart. I meant the comment about Oklahoma Tribal Pigs."

"The Cherokee Nation has an upside-down seven-sided star inscribed inside a circle as their emblem," Harry said as they exited the police station. "They threatened to sue when the US Marshals adopted the super services shield."

"Learn something new everyday," Jessica said. They walked down the street a bit to an unmarked car. "Okay Harold, here's the deal." She turned and faced him as they stood next to her car. Jessica took the remote for the collar out of her pocket. She pointed it at his collar and hit the off button. The LED light shut off. "I need you to be able to trust me, and I need to be able to trust you. While we're on duty, outside of the station, the collar is off. If you want to escape now's the time to do it. We both know you can leap tall buildings in a single bound so if you're going to go, go."

Harry looked at her for a moment then looked at the remote, then back up at her. "Sorry Jessie-boo, you ain't gettin' rid of me that easily. Let's go catch this rapist."

"You poking this bear now?" Jessica asked.

Harry snorted. "No, I'm flirting. I'm just two years out of practice, Jessie-boo."

"What? you didn't get any practice in the big house?" she shot back.

"Plenty of offers, but no one there was my type." Harry shrugged. "You know what they say, lucky in business, not lucky in love."

Jessie lowered one eyebrow. "Lucky in business? You were in prison."

"There's over two hundred million the police never recovered from the old days." Harry flashed her a smile. "I'm very lucky in business."

Jessica laughed. "You want to let me know where you've got it stashed and I can recover it for you. The city will only take a 100% recovery fee."

"We've got a rapist to find." Harry pointed at the car. "You want to unlock this thing or should I rip the door off?"

"Touchy, touchy." Jessica pulled out her keys and hit a button on the fob, unlocking the car. "Big Harry can dish it out, but he can't take it. What's the matter, out of practice?"

"Yes," Harry said as he got in the passenger seat, "I'm one of the strongest supers in the world. The few times someone was stupid enough to challenge me I broke them."

Jessica started the car. "Broke them how?"

"Usually a simple fracture of the humerus. If they really annoyed me the femur." Harry turned and smiled at her. "I told you I used to hurt people."

"And how many of them were criminals?" Jessica asked. Harry frowned. "Pleading the fifth again? I figured."

"So, where are we going to find this rapist?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

Jessica laughed. "I won that one. Are you willing to concede defeat or should I keep score?"

Harry sighed. "The rapist."

Jessica smiled. "One for me. We're not going after the rapist just yet. First we need to get you out of that jumpsuit."

"Oh Jessie-boo. All you had to do was ask."

"Funny. You're not going to be tagging along with me dressed in a prison jumpsuit, you'll spook everyone."

"In that case we should take off the collar."

"A scarf will cover that. We need to go shopping."

Harry smiled. "Excellent. It's been two years since I've been to Barney's."

Jessica laughed. "Like I can afford Barney's. We're taking you to Salvo's."

"I've never heard of Salvo's. What kind of clothes do they have there?"

Jessica pulled out into traffic. "The Salvation Army? Second-hand."

"Only a Sith deals in absolutes!" - Except, apparently, that one.

"And Anarchy, I think we can agree, is only fun some of the time." - Ducky

Harry shook his head as he sat back in his seat, pulling on the turtleneck shirt that hid his collar. "The jumpsuit was more comfortable."

Jessica pointed a thumb toward the backseat, "You can put it back on if it will shut you up."

"I thought you didn't want me spooking everyone," Harry countered.

"I don't," Jessica said as she pulled into a parking spot. "But then, I thought the biggest bad ass the world had ever seen wasn't a whiner-baby."

"Whiner-baby?" Harry turned to glare at the detective. "Image is reality. Crime taught me that. The better I look, the more respect I command, faster. The more respect I command the less I have to hurt people to get what I want."

Jessica unbuckled her seatbelt. "Fair enough. Feel free to buy yourself a new suit. But if you break the law you're going back to prison." She flashed him a smile. "You know, like buying a suit with stolen cash."

"Wunderbar," Harry muttered in a decent German accent. He looked around. "Hey, two years later and this is still a lousy neighborhood. Why are we here?"

"As a criminal you make a lousy detective." She rolled her eyes at him. "Think about everything we talked about today and what we're doing right now, and you tell me why we're in this neighborhood."

"Right in one." Jessica opened her door. "Good to see your brain works."

Harry growled and slammed the door open. He made a beeline down the street.

"Where are you going?" Jessica asked. When he didn't stop or answer Jessica called out, "Harry!" Harry didn't stop or slow down. "Son of a bitch," she cursed under her breath before heading after him.

Harry slammed open the door of a bar and growled a demand. "Where is he?"

The bartender looked up from the bar and gasped. "Big Harry? I, uh, nice suit. I thought you were still in prison."

"The rapist, Willie." Harry glared at the barkeep as he walked up to the bar. "Where is he?"

"Which one?" Willie asked nervously. "Uh, things went to pot when you went to prison Harry."

Harry reached a hand out and grabbed Willie by the front of his shirt and lifted him off the ground. "I want the super freak. The speedster. Tell him to run Willie. Tell him to run as fast and as far as he can. Big Harry is coming for him." Harry let go of Willie, letting him drop to the floor. Harry turned and walked through the door, closing it behind him just as Detective Hilary caught up to him.

"What the hell was that?" Jessica demanded.

"What was what?" Harry asked, walking back toward the car.

"You know, I think I could use a drink," Jessica said.

Harry didn't stop walking. "You're on duty."

Jessica shook her head and started walking after him when the bar's door opened, hitting her in the face and knocking her to the ground.

"Hey, you!" the man who came out of the bar called, "Big Harry!"

Jessica looked up. She recognized him and froze. It was the rapist.

Harry turned slowly. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the guy. "I don't know who you are, but if you holler my name on the street again, I'll break your arm."

The rapist laughed. "I'm the guy you're looking for. And I'll do whatever I want. You been in prison too long old man, even your clothes are out of style."

"I'm gonna give you one chance, just one," Harry said, raising one finger in the air, "to turn yourself in to the police. Confess and go to jail and I'll leave you alone. Otherwise..." Harry let his voice trail off, letting the rapist imagine what he would do.

The rapist responded by closing the distance between them and landing a right cross on Harry's jaw. Harry didn't so much as flinch. The rapist shook his hand. "I think I broke something."

Harry laughed, deep and loud. "You should have taken the offer." Harry reached for the rapist but he wasn't there. "You are fast."

The rapist laughed, a high-pitched near-giggle. "You may be strong Big Harry, but you can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man."

Jessica let out a groan. "That's just awful." She got to her feet.

The rapist turned, noticing her for the first time. "Detective Hilary."

"You're under arrest," she said.

Harry leapt forward, swinging at the rapist. The rapist side-stepped at the last possible instant, just getting clipped on the jaw by a glancing blow. His hand moved to his mouth. "You broke my jaw."

"Stand still and I'll end all your problems," Harry said as he swung another punch.

The rapist dodged his blow easily, taking the opportunity to land a half dozen punches and kicks of his own on Harry. "Why won't you go down?"

"I don't swing that way," Harry replied, trying to grab the rapist.

A gunshot rang out. Jessica had drawn her service weapon and fired at the rapist. The rapist dodged and the bullet hit Harry.

"This fight is way too crowded for me," the rapist said. He turned and ran away at high speed.

"Damn it," Jessica cursed, "He got away."

"You shot me," Harry complained.

"Whiner-baby," Jessica retorted, "You're fine."

"Only a Sith deals in absolutes!" - Except, apparently, that one.

"And Anarchy, I think we can agree, is only fun some of the time." - Ducky

Jessica put her service weapon away, glaring at Harry. "How did you know he would be here?"

Harry put his finger through the bullet hole and sighed. "I didn't."

Jessica snorted. She walked up to Harry and poked him in the chest. "I pull you out of prison, get you a nice new suit." Harry chortled at that but Jessica continued without interruption. "I bring you to the neighborhood and you happen, you just happen to make a beeline for the very bar he's sitting in? How did you know he would be here Harold?"

"You'll get killed." Harry's voice was somber. "There's at least three guys in there that will kill you just for being a cop. If you and the force come after this place they'll respond and you can't handle all of them at once. The streets of this city will run red with the blood of innocents caught in the crossfire."

Her eyes lowered to slits. "I hate you." She sighed. "But you're right. Ok, what do we do now? The rapist won't be coming back."

Harry laughed. "Of course he will."

Jessica canted her head to the side. "He knows the cops are after him, and he knows you're out for him. He'd have to be insane to stick around."

Harry smiled. "He's the Gingerbread Man, remember? He thinks he can't get caught. He's on a power trip. Until he gets beaten he'll think he's invincible. I challenged him and I didn't beat him, so he'll take another shot. Head back to the car, there's something else I need to take care of real quick."

"No, I'm not going to let you wander the streets alone with your collar off."

Jessica sighed and followed after him. He wasn't walking fast, so she caught up easily. "And where are you going?"

Harry glanced at her askance then continued walking. Jessica growled but continued walking. He came to a stop in front of a house with two guys in hoodies sitting on the porch. Harry stood, staring at them.

Finally one of the hoods broke the silence. "That's an ugly suit."

"Get Birdie," Harry replied.

The second hood laughed. "Who's Birdie?"

"I tell you again, you won't be walking home," Harry said.

"Escucho loco gringo," the first hood said, pulling out a large revolver and pointing it at Harry. "How about I cap you, then you won't be walking home."

Both hoods stood up. "Eres Loco," the first hood said, waving the gun at Harry and backing up.

"He's going to kill you," the second hood said, "Do you know who this is?"

"Yeah," Harry said, taking another stride forward, "He's a worthless pusher who's about to eat his gun." Harry broke into a run, clearing the distance between him and the gun. The hood got a shot off. It bounced off Harry's chest. He grabbed the gun and crushed it around the hood's hand. Then Harry pushed him gently and the hood went flying back, crashing into the house. The second hood stood, staring at what happened. Harry grabbed him by the upper arm and squeezed. The hood howled in pain, grabbing at his arm. Harry didn't let go. "You gonna go get Birdie now, or am I going to have to really hurt you?"

"I'll get him, I'll get him!" the hood screamed.

The front door slammed open and a hispanic man stepped out with a MP-5 nine millimeter automatic rifle. "What is going on out here?"

"Heh." Harry turned to face him. "What did I tell you I would do to you if you brought that poison back to my streets Birdie?"

Birdie lowered the weapon. "Big Harry? When did you get out of prison?"

Harry took a step toward him. "What did I tell you Birdie?"

Birdie bent down and put the gun down, then stood upright with his hands up. "Don't kill me Big Harry, please. You were gone man. I'm just a soldier. The boss says move back into this neighborhood, I move back in."

Harry closed the distance between them. He picked up the gun by the barrel then the stock and yanked. The barrel came out easily. Birdie stood there shaking.

"Uh, what are you going to do with that Harry?" Birdie asked.

Harry bent the barrel into a 'U' shape and then put it behind Birdie's neck. He finished bending the barrel around Birdie's neck, fashioning a tight collar. "Here's the deal Birdie. You tell your supplier, your distributors and every pusher you know that I'm back and the neighborhood is off-limits. The same goes for the prostitutes, the rapists, the muggers. Anyone doing any of that, in my neighborhood, I will feed them their face."

Birdie was having a hard time breathing with his new collar on. "I got it," he managed to wheeze out.

"Good." Harry walked back down the porch and over to Jessica. "Now we can go."

"Only a Sith deals in absolutes!" - Except, apparently, that one.

"And Anarchy, I think we can agree, is only fun some of the time." - Ducky

They walked back to the car in silence. They got in and drove off, in silence. After twenty minutes it was fairly obvious Detective Hilary wasn't bringing them back to the station house. For his part Harry sat in the passenger seat with a half-smile on his face, to all appearances he was enjoying the ride. Jessica was not smiling. She was getting increasingly upset, and her efforts to hide her emotions were failing. She veered off the road and brought the car to a screeching halt. Harry seemed to be completely unfazed by all of this, not even upset over almost hitting the dashboard with his head from the sudden stop.

Jessica fumbled with trying to get into her pants pocket, finally shrieking, giving up and undoing the safety belt. She jammed her hand into her pocket and pulled out the remote, hit the on button and the LED from the collar could be seen faintly through Harry's turtle neck.

"You are going back to prison," Jessica said.

Harry turned to her with a cocky grin on his face. "Aw, Jessie-boo, are you upset?"

Jessica drew her service pistol, cocked the hammer back and put the barrel to Harry's temple. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't just shoot you right now."

Harry started to laugh. He made no effort to try and stop her. "Go ahead, you'd be making the world a better place."

Jessica's eyes narrowed to slits. Her grip on the pistol tightened, her knuckles whitening. With a scream she pulled the gun away from his head, and despite her rage decocked the weapon, removed her finger from the trigger to along the slide and safely holstered her pistol. "Damn you Big Harry. Damn you to hell!"

Harry shrugged. "Not the first time I've been damned. What's got you so upset? Isn't this what you wanted? To find out that I am a vigilante after all?"

"You threaten to kill people for misdemeanors and minor felonies!" Jessica was not calming down.

Harry nodded. "Yup. And I would too." He paused. "Well, maybe not the prostitutes. But definitely the pimps. I've never met a pimp that wasn't lower than a slave owner. But that's what prostitution basically is. Slavery."

Jessica shook her head. "We don't kill people for minor felonies!"

Harry laughed. "You don't kill people for minor felonies. But then, you're the first cop to visit that neighborhood without riot gear in how many decades? Why do you think the supers chose that neighborhood to move into. They knew they wouldn't have to deal with the pigs."

Jessica's eyes narrowed again. "Maybe I will shoot you after all."

"Do it." Harry turned to her, meeting his glare with one of his own. "That would be ironic. Killing a defenseless man for what again? What minor felony did I commit that was so heinous that you need to execute me via instant vigilante-style justice."

She held her glare for a long minute. "You're an ass."

Harry grinned. "Thanks for noticing."

"How the hell am I supposed to write this up?" Jessica asked.

"Make the part where you put a gun to my head the centerpiece. Threatening a super will probably get you promoted."

"Screw you," Jessica retorted.

Harry laughed. "I've been in prison for two years Jessie-boo. Don't make me an offer if you're not planning to follow through."

"And you call cops pigs?" she asked.

Harry smiled. "What's your plan for finding the rapist?"

"That was a quick change of subject," Jessica replied.

"Sorry, I'll work more segways into my routine." Harry affected a horrible impression of Rodney Dangerfield. "Cops are pigs. Speaking of pigs, What's your plan for finding the rapist?"

Jessica managed to smile. "I don't have one." She paused. "Yet. I don't have one, yet. You said he'd come looking for you, right?"

Harry nodded. "Probably not until he gets his jaw wired. I didn't get him with much of that punch, but when you toss a garbage truck a mile without breaking a sweat, it doesn't take much to break bone."

"Well, we'll put a watch on the hospitals, in case he tries to use an emergency room. In the meantime I guess we better head back to the station house and see what the captain thinks we should do."

"Only a Sith deals in absolutes!" - Except, apparently, that one.

"And Anarchy, I think we can agree, is only fun some of the time." - Ducky

Detective Hilary didn't flinch or wilt as her captain dressed her down like she was some green rookie. She stood at what the military calls a parade rest, legs shoulder-width apart, hands behind her back. She forced herself to be calm, not to react physically or emotionally, she kept her breathing even to ignore the fury emanating from her superior officer and keep her focus on her goal.

For his part, Harry was standing there aloof, or just bored. His face was relaxed, neither smiling nor frowning. He was looking at the police captain with glassy eyes.

“I want to catch this bastard and Johnson is the key to doing that, sir.” Only a sliver of her emotion bled through her voice.

The captain slammed his hand on his desk. “Damn it Jessica, I'm not kidding!” He pointed at Harry. “That bastard took on the city's entire police force and the national guard, and we couldn't stop him, and now you want to let him loose!”

Harry laughed, a staccato chuckle. They both turned and looked at him. He killed his smile and waved them off. “Sorry, go on.”

“No dirtbag,” the captain said, “I want to know what you find so damn funny.”

Harry snorted. “Well, if you insist.” Harry took a deep breath and let it out through his lips making a raspberry sound. “It seems funny to me that you folks are all so, I don't know, obsessed with me decimating the pigs and the army. I know it's news to you and all, but now I'm on your side. I even signed some paperwork that says I'm playing on the side of the angels. But you're still so sore from the spanking I gave you that you haven't taken a jiffy to consider just how potent a resource you now have. That is, no one but Jessie-boo here.” Both of them stared at him for a long minute. “Oh yeah, Oinker, if you call me a dirtbag again I'm going to go find another M1 Abrams to wrap around you.”

“Are you threatening me, dirtbag?” the Captain demanded.

Harry nodded. “Yes, pig, I am.” He turned to face Jessica. “I was clear, wasn't I? I thought I was pretty clear. I wrapped a tank around him before, I thought it was a pretty obvious threat.”

“You wrapped a tank around him?” Jessica asked.

“Yes he did,” the captain said, “And now he's going back to prison for threatening a police officer.”

“Sir!” protested Jessica, “I need him.”

“Nope,” Harry said, “Not happening. I signed papers.”

“You just threatened a cop, that's a crime. Those papers are irrelevant.” The captain smiled. “Got any smart remarks now?”

Harry nodded. “For you tank boy, always. According to that paperwork I'm absolved of all crimes committed in the course of duty.”

“Absolved?” Jessica asked.

“Whatever the word is,” Harry replied.

“This isn't in the course of duty,” the captain fired back.

“It's not?” Harry asked with a shrug. “Then why am I in your office instead of a bar?”

“That's not what it means!” the captain shouted.

“But it is what it says,” Harry said with a smirk. “Your paperwork is vague. The FBI's is much more precise.”

“Get out of my office!” the captain yelled.

“But my case,” Jessica protested.

“Out!”

Harry turned and walked out, a slight grin on his face. Hilary nodded, and walked out precisely.

Once they were down the hall and at Jessica's desk she turned and glared at Harry. “What was that all about?”

“What?” Harry asked.

“Why did you just intentionally piss off the captain? Are you just poking the bear again?”

Harry chuckled. “I know him from the old days. He doesn't like me.”

“Why not?” Jessica demanded.

“I'm not sure.” Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe they made him pay for that tank.”

“You wrapped a tank around him? Around my police captain?”

“Yeah. Well, first I ripped the cupola off, then I wrapped the bottom closed, trapping him and the rest of the crew inside.”

Jessica nodded. “Oh, I know I'm right. Even that crap out at the drug house, you didn't hurt anyone until after they fired a shot. You're definitely a jerk, but you're not a murderer.”

Harry's reply was cut short by the slamming open of the Captain's door. He charged down the hall and over to Detective Hilary's desk. “Alright Hilary, here's the deal. You bring in this super rapist and this dirtbag,” the captain indicated Harry with his thumb, “can stay.”

“I wonder if there's anywhere in state I can borrow an M1 from,” Harry wondered aloud.

The two police officers ignored him. “I understand sir. Any suggestions on what to do next? Stakeout locations? Maybe some officers I can use?”

“What do you need more officers for?” the captain asked, “you've got the dirtbag. As for locations, I say stakeout the bar you found him in. Worst case, it puts you in the right neighborhood.”

“Do you have an ID on this guy?” Harry asked, “We can hit his home, his work, make things a little too hot for him.”

The captain turned and glared. “Are you suggesting arson?”

“We have prints, DNA and his face,” Jessica responded, “but he's not in the system. We don't know who he is.”

Harry smiled at the captain. “Why not? I've got twelve arson charges I was convicted of. Or was it thirteen? Half of them were your cases Leroy, you tell me.”

“You smug son of a bitch,” the captain said. “Get your ugly mug out of this station and bring me that racist!”

“Rapist.”

“Out!”

"Only a Sith deals in absolutes!" - Except, apparently, that one.

"And Anarchy, I think we can agree, is only fun some of the time." - Ducky

"No Jessica. For the thousandth time I cannot protect you in there." Harry sighed, leaning his head back against the headrest of the passenger seat. "We should wait in the car until he comes back. Besides the hospitals, this is our only lead."

Jessica drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. "I should be in there questioning witnesses and pumping the scum." She clenched her hand into a fist. "Pump the scum."

Harry moaned as he rubbed his hand on his forehead. "You're gonna get yourself killed." He moved his hand from his head to point at the bar. "What if you see Purple Shiny Pants, or Billy Goat Gruff, or some other nutjob in there who recognizes you as a cop?"

"They will all know I'm a cop." She turned and smiled at him. "When you're pumping scum you have to let the scum know you're in charge."

"Damn it Jessica," Harry said, raising his voice, "Fire Ant was in there earlier. He could burn you down in an instant, and that psychopath wouldn't hesitate."

Jessica laughed and pushed herself back into the seat of her car. "For a murderous rapist you're pretty concerned for my safety."

Harry glared at her for a long minute before shaking his head and turning away. "You forgot arsonist."

Jessica smiled. "Yeah, what's up with you and the captain? Or is that classified under your no ratting policy?"

Harry snorted. "Leroy? No, that's a matter of public record. I broke his arm."

Jessica waited until the silence became uncomfortable. Uncomfortable for her, Harry seemed unfazed. "You're going to make me ask for an explanation, aren't you?"

Harry chuckled. "Virtue is probably the wrong word. Silence is number one. Loyalty is number two. A dispassion for violence is number three."

Jessica raised an eyebrow. "Dispassion? You know alot of words that are really close to what you mean."

Harry shrugged. "I read more than I talk. I've said more today than I did all year."

"Why a 'dispassion?' I'd figure people like you would want psycho killers."

"People like me?"

"Yeah, super villains."

Harry snorted. "You've read too many comic books."

"Fine, what do you call yourself then?"

"Usually Harry. Sometimes Big Harry. But I don't make it a habit of talking in the third person."

"I meant, what do you tell people you do for a living?"

Harry snorted again. "People know what I do for a living."

"What if you're meeting someone knew?"

"Either the boss tells them or I crush something." Harry shrugged. "Actions speak louder than words."

"Really?" Jessica asked.

"Yeah. You stomp a cinder block into dust, or crumple a pistol into a ball and people get scared." Harry paused. "Scared people tend to do what I tell 'em."

"And when the boss told them who you were?"

Harry laughed. "We were lucky if they didn't crap their pants. They were already scared from having to see old man Tosetti. When Jay introduced me the blood would drain out of their face. There was this one guy, a hot-shot banker, ya know. He thought he was going to play the old man, and nobody, I mean nobody, puts one over on the old man. Anyway, he had no idea who I was. Didn't even flinch when the boss said my name. So the boss had me break his arm, ya know, just so he'd know who I was."

"That's horrible."

Harry shrugged. "Eh, he was trying to scam us out of 5 million." Harry paused, then turned to Jessica. "Hey Jessie-boo, you want to take a break and go visit him? I bet if I ask real nice he'd buy me a suit. A real suit."

Jessica shook her head. "No. You're not shaking down a business man. Anyway, from your trial I thought you were the big boss in the Tosetti family. So Old Man Jay was running things the whole time?"

Harry started to answer and stopped. He glared at her. "So what, I won't let you inside so you're pumping the scum out here?"

Jessica was shocked at the accusation. "What? No, we were just talking."

"Yeah right." He opened the car door. "I suddenly feel the need for a beer." Harry got out of the car.

"Son-of-a- get back in here!" she demanded.

Harry scoffed. "Make me." He turned and walked off toward the bar.

"Only a Sith deals in absolutes!" - Except, apparently, that one.

"And Anarchy, I think we can agree, is only fun some of the time." - Ducky